Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(69)

"Kiss his ass? Is that what you think I was doing? You bastard!" She launched herself at him in a scratching, flailing, yelling fit, lost to all reason. He caught her wrists and wrestled her down until she was pinned to his lap in a breathlessly tight, furious embrace.

"Let me just say, in my own defense, that I was exactly as polite to them as they were to me," he said. Each word was like a chip of ice.

She heaved and struggled against him. "You're imagining things!"

"Bullshit, I am. They were f*cking with me, and when people f*ck with me, I do not smile and nod and take it, Erin. Ever. No matter how big a pile of money they're squatting on. Is that clear?"

She wrenched at her trapped wrists. "I heard that interchange, and I did not hear any rudeness!"

"Then you weren't listening closely enough," he said flatly.

Erin panted, staring at the tight, unrelenting grip he had on her wrists. She carefully organized her thoughts. "Uh, Connor?"

"Yeah? What?" He sounded apprehensive.

"For the record. If you really had been my fiancé, hypothetically speaking…"

He jerked his chin impatiently. "Yes?"

"Just be aware that after a scene like that, you would no longer be my fiance. It would be over."

"Oh yeah?"

She focused on the button she had sewed onto his shut this morning. "If that scene had been for real, it would have demonstrated that you had no respect for my intelligence. Or any respect for me at all. It would prove that you didn't trust my judgment, or have any regard for my professional dignity. And that would be unforgivable."

He went very still for a long moment. "Well, then," he murmured. "It's a damn good thing it was all theater, then, huh?"

"Theater?" She wrenched at her wrists, in vain. "Hah! It was a crazy melodrama! Your jealous boyfriend act was ridiculous, Connor! And you made me look ridiculous, too!"

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. His eyes shifted away from hers. "Now I'm screwed," he said sourly. "You're giving me the look."

"What look is that?" she demanded.

"The intergalactic princess look. Don't. I already feel like a jerk."

"Good," she said.

He sighed, "I won't apologize for being rude to Mueller's lackeys, because they deserved it. But I'm sorry if I was rude to you."

She stopped wiggling, startled. "Uh… thank you."

"But look at it from my end. I was trying to communicate with you, and you were blocking me. You can't come running when that guy crooks his finger. We've got to pick our times and places carefully."

"No!" She convulsed, almost breaking out of his iron grip. "Not we! No more meetings with you in tow. No way. Never again. I will not allow you to ruin this for me! It's too important!"

"Jesus! I cannot get through to you, Erin! I am not reassured by the fact that Mueller didn't show. I was not impressed by Dobbs or Julian. And I was disgusted by the way they were jerking you around."

"Oh, God. Is that what you think of Mueller's offer?"

"Yeah. It is." The look on his face was a grim challenge.

She forced herself to stop struggling. "Please let me go, Connor," she said quietly. He let go, and she clambered off his lap and slid to the other end of the seat. "I would love to get jerked around like that more often," she said, straightening her clothing. "The chance to curate a collection like Mueller's, to bring in a donation of that size, to be responsible for a new wing. For where I am in my career, it would be an unbelievable coup."

"Yeah, exactly," he said. "Unbelievable."

His tone sent a chill through her. "You can't possibly still be thinking that he's Novak."

He shrugged. "It bugs me that he didn't show his face once he found out I was with you. Until I meet the guy in person, I'll continue to assume the worst."

She sagged down onto the seat, deflated. Her anger was draining away and her energy with it, as if a vortex had opened up beneath her, sucking it up. It felt horribly familiar. It was the same vortex that had been sucking everyone she cared about into its big black maw.

This was such an old struggle. In that moment, she had a dim, aching flash of just how old it was. She'd been fighting this vortex ever since she was a tiny child. By trying to be good, orderly, disciplined. Trying to make sense of the world. All her life. With all her strength.

It wasn't enough. It was taking her down, like it had taken Dad. Like it seemed to be taking Mom. Maybe Cindy, too, for all she knew. Nothing could stop it. Certainly not her feeble efforts.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "So it's all a vicious conspiracy? Everything I do, everything I try to build, it's all an ugly joke, and I'm the butt of it. I'm never going to crawl out of this godawful stinking hole, am I, Connor? Monsters are waiting around every corner."

"Erin, please—"

"It's like quicksand," she quavered. "The harder I try to climb out, the deeper I sink."

"Erin, please," Connor pleaded. "Don't freak out on me. I could be wrong. Hell, I probably am wrong. Maybe I'm a paranoid idiot, and if so, I give you permission to kick my ass, OK? Please, don't cry. Come here."